


boiling point

by beanpod



Category: VIXX
Genre: ??? i guess????, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 05:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanpod/pseuds/beanpod
Summary: It's always Hongbin the one with the crazy ideas. Always.This time he opens with a, “Hey, how about you come on my face this time,” and it takes a whole lot of willpower (that Wonshik may or may not actually have) not to kick him in the face because not the time, Lee Hongbin, so not the time.





	boiling point

**Author's Note:**

> this is purely self-indulgent and was written while listening to ravi's 'boiling point' because why the hell not, honestly. this has zero context or background, listen-- i just wanted to write rabin porn, that's all.

It's always Hongbin the one with the crazy ideas. Always.

This time he opens with a, “Hey, how about you come on my face this time,” and it takes a whole lot of willpower (that Wonshik may or may not actually have) not to kick him in the face because not the time, Lee Hongbin, so not the time.

(Also? Not that crazy. It’s not like Wonshik came on his face last weekend. On a list of crazy things to propose, Hongbin hasn’t even reached the middle of it.)

Instead, Wonshik throws him a glare over his shoulder and goes back to checking the noodles on the stove, because of course Hongbin would bring up something like this while Wonshik is trying to fix them some dinner. Honestly, where is Taekwoon and his (fake) sense of propriety and etiquette when you need him.

“I’m trying to cook here,” he says, stirring the water with a spoon. “If you wanna eat sometime today you better cut that shit out.”

“Oh, I plan to eat alright.” Although Wonshik can’t see his face, he’s a hundred percent sure Hongbin is leering. “I’m just saying, we have the place to ourselves, why can’t we have some fun?”

Wonshik turns to look at him disbelievingly. “We just had three rounds of frankly Olympic sex, Hongbin, what else do you want from me?”

Hongbin cackles, and truth be told, it’s endearing and cute. Wonshik’s so gone on him it’s hilarious. Hilarious for Hongbin, obviously. “Don’t you miss the days when he could get it up at the drop of a hat?”

Wonshik snorts and turns back to the noodles. “I swear, you’re unbelievable.”

“You love it, though,” Hongbin counters, and well, what is Wonshik gonna do, deny it?

“Ugh, shut up and bring me plates, you fiend,” he mutters, and Hongbin giggles (triumphantly! What the fuck!) as he gets up from where he’s been sitting at the table to fetch some plates.

Hongbin appears at his side next and leaves the bowls on the counter, and Wonshik should really give it to him because he at least waits until the stove is off before he wraps his arms around Wonshik’s waist from behind and nuzzles softly at the back of his neck. Good thing he isn’t holding anything at the moment, either, because he’d dropped everything at the soft bite Hongbin gives him and sets shakes on his fingers.

“What are you doing,” Wonshik starts, and Hongbin only hums in response, his lips part and his tongue joins in when he starts kissing down the curve of his neck and shoulder. It feels good and it makes Wonshik’s mouth run dry but he’s hungry, damn it, and he’s achieved culinary perfection right now, his noodles look fucking good and they’re gonna be soggy by the time he gets to eat them.

“I’m hungry,” he says, pathetically, hoping to appeal to Hongbin’s desire to keep Wonshik well fed.

“So am I,” Hongbin murmurs, his fingers dipping under the hem of Wonshik’s t-shirt. He finds the strings of his sweatpants and tugs on them a little in time with the tiny kisses he leaves behind Wonshik’s ear. “I really, _really_ wanna blow you.”

Wonshik huffs and bites at his lips as Hongbin’s fingers trace feather-light patterns on the skin above the waist of his pants. He’s a menace and Wonshik has to clutch tight at the counter when Hongbin grinds forwards and his dick pushes against Wonshik’s ass, fuck, Wonshik feels it through two layers of fabric and his tummy flutters with want. He reaches back, curls a hand in Hongbin’s t-shirt and just holds him there.

Hongbin breathes, “I also kinda wanna bend you over this counter and fuck you till you can’t walk.”

“That is unsanitary, I don’t know when the last time this kitchen was cleaned and we’d only be adding to the mess,” Wonshik mutters, but pushes his ass back because might as well and all that.

“Blow-job it is, then,” Hongbin sighs, like he’s put-upon, like he’s not dropping to his knees and making Wonshik turn around at alarming speed. Wonshik’s eyes swim a little when he finds himself pressed back into the counter, Hongbin on his knees and with his hands braced at either side of his hips, smirking up at him with all his teeth. “What a hardship.”

“Yes,” Wonshik agrees, reaching for the drawstrings of his pants himself and tugging them loose, “I can see you looking real disappointed. The struggle is real for you this afternoon.”

“Poor little me. I deserve a consolation prize after this.” Hongbin bats his hands away, grinning when he starts tugging Wonshik’s pants down. He gets them down enough to free his dick, which honestly speaking has been through the ringer today but is proudly standing at half-mast already. Wonshik lets out a soft sigh when Hongbin kisses the underside gently. “I’ll take diamonds if you can’t think of anything else.”

“I can think of a couple of well-deserved things,” Wonshik retorts, and Hongbin laughs through his nose while shaking his head a little—fondly, too, which isn’t lost on Wonshik here, thanks—and broadly licks at his own palm. The sight of it happening is absurdly hot, no one should look that good while licking their own hand, no one, and yet Wonshik can feel his dick twitch a little in the air and before Hongbin wraps his wet fist around his dick.

“Oh,” he gasps, fuck, his knees shake a little with how good it feels and isn’t it sad, that this has barely started and Wonshik’s about ready to keel over.

Hongbin smirks up at him like he _knows_—because of course he does, it’s his own doing anyway—and leans forward, his lower lip catching under the head of Wonshik’s dick. He just stays, though, the asshole, looking up at Wonshik with glinting eyes and pink lips that don’t quite close around the tip of his dick; his breath is warm and Wonshik shivers full-bodied, grips the counter a little tighter.

“You’re such an asshole,” Wonshik mutters, hips stuttering when Hongbin’s fingers move a little, the slowest upstroke in the history of mankind probably.

Hongbin smiles sideways. “I am what I eat, babe.” Wonshik wants to—to slap him a little, tug on his hair until his eyes are all teary, maybe, but Hongbin takes mercy on him and closes his lips around the head and suckles. Wonshik grunts and his fingers curl tighter over the edge of the counter; it’s not _enough_, Hongbin’s just pushing at his buttons here, barely any pressure, barely any _suction_, his fist still around him and not doing _shit_.

“You fucking tease,” he rasps, because Hongbin is one. He’s still looking up at Wonshik in that infuriating way he does pretty much everything else. Wonshik’s still twenty percent scared of that look, even now.

Hongbin pulls back, his fist not doing much else other than just being there, and licks his lips. Indecently, too. “Put your hands in my hair, Wonshik,” he says. His voice is quiet, unperturbed, and Wonshik swallows audibly, uncurling his fingers from the counter to bury first his right hand in the hair at the back of Hongbin’s head—god, it is unfairly _soft_—and then the left one at the top. Hongbin smiles up at him, leaning into the touch, and his fist _fucking finally_ moves. “Yeah,” Hongbin breathes as Wonshik scratches a little at his scalp.

Hongbin’s eyes are closed as he leans into it a little heavier, his mouth parted and the tip of Wonshik’s dick barely reaching it. Wonshik wants to thrust forward, wants to push his dick past Hongbin’s pretty parted lips, but Hongbin’s fist is definite in holding him back. Wonshik groans, the friction is not enough.

“Hongbin,” he starts, and Hongbin looks up at him sharply, his eyes focused and resolute. It makes Wonshik shut up faster than anything before, and before he knows it his dick is past them pretty, pink lips, and Hongbin’s sucking him down so fast Wonshik’s knees buckle.

He’s good. He’s so fucking_ good_. Wonshik wants to make a witty remark about how Hongbin’s mouth’s been made for this but his mind is not his own right now and all he can utter is Hongbin’s name in a breathless moan. It’s like it spurs Hongbin on to take him deeper, suck harder, move his fist a bit tighter, and Wonshik uses the moment to tug at his hair, but only a little, enough to make Hongbin moan around him. Hongbin’s got his free hand braced on the counter by Wonshik’s hip; Wonshik lets go of his hair to circle his fingers around Hongbin’s bony wrist and just leaves it there.

Hongbin looks up and his eyes are smiley and warm, which is at odds with the wicked things his mouth and tongue are doing. He winks—_unfair_, really—and lets his tongue cradle the crown of Wonshik’s dick for a bit before he pulls away, hand and all.

It leaves Wonshik feeling oddly bereft. “What—Hongbin,” he begins, but is cut off by Hongbin saying, “Fuck my mouth.” He smirks, lips pink and wet. “Come on, make me feel it.”

“Fuck you,” Wonshik breathes, and Hongbin chuckles a little before he wraps his lips around his dick again, holding his gaze steady even as he takes him far enough to nearly gag. Wonshik swears again when he feels the back of Hongbin’s throat _with the tip of his dick_, his fingers tightening just so in Hongbin’s hair.

Hongbin makes an encouraging noise, and grips Wonshik’s hips tightly, urging him on with a tug. Wonshik thrusts forward and Hongbin whines again, sucks harder, his lips pursed tight around his cock. His eyes are closed now and he looks lost in it, and Wonshik very much wants to clench his own because the sight he makes is just _too much_, but that’d mean having to actually _miss it_ and that shit just won’t do. His grip on Hongbin tightens just that much more and Hongbin’s nails dig into his skin in retaliation, his throat working around the tip of his dick and making Wonshik curse again, before pulling off with a heavy pant and spit clinging to the corners of his lips.

“Fuck,” Hongbin mutters, voice already raspy; he wraps fingers around Wonshik’s dick and starts jerking him off. Spit makes the slide of his fist easy and so, _so_ good. “Harder, come on, I know you can do it,” he says, and tilts his face so he can press his lips to Wonshik’s palm.

Wonshik groans when Hongbin’s fist is replaced by his mouth once more. He isn’t holding back anymore, he takes him as far as he can go and then some, until he’s gagging a little and his eyes get all teary. Wonshik’s at a loss of words, can’t even put two ideas together; all that leaves him is a string of curses with Hongbin’s name sparsely thrown in. Hongbin clutches at his hips again and Wonshik starts thrusting slowly at first, watching Hongbin’s face and ready to stop if needs be. Hongbin takes it like he’s been aching for it, though, his eyes hazy and glazed over a little when he looks up at him, his cheeks flushed pink, tears caught in his eyelashes. He’s beautiful and he looks fucking filthy and Wonshik’s not going to last much.

Hongbin makes another whiny noise at a particularly hard thrust. He blinks tears away and seems to smirk even with a mouthful of cock, and Wonshik watches, transfixed, as Hongbin pulls back only a little, enough to take a deep breath, and take him back in and _oh,_ oh, he’s going _deep_.

“Oh,” Wonshik breathes, clutching at Hongbin’s hair in any manner he can, and fuck, Hongbin blinks up at him all glossy again and swallows past the tip of Wonshik’s dick. It’s fucking _tight_, is what it is, and Wonshik makes a whiny noise himself when he pulls back only to thrust in easy as nothing.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and he’s never wanted to come so hard before, what the fuck, “fuck, Hongbin, fuck—just—”

Hongbin hums around the dick in his throat and it’s fucking _glorious_. Wonshik whines again, tugs at Hongbin’s hair desperately, “Hongbin—Hongbin, I’m gonna come, I—”

The thing is Wonshik doesn’t realize he’s about to come his fucking brains off until the pressure around his cock eases off and with it Hongbin’s mouth. His hips stutter forward, ready to chase the tight circle of Hongbin’s lips, but Hongbin holds him steady with one hand and wraps spit-slick fingers around his dick to finish him off. Wonshik swears a blue streak because it’s nowhere near _enough_, but he’s still wound so tight that it doesn’t take much for him to come. Hongbin takes half of it in his mouth, come streaked across his tongue, but most if lands on the top of his upper lip, on his cheek, the side of his nose, his chin. He looks like a downright mess of spit and come and he’s so flushed Wonshik’s dick still twitches interestedly at the sight of him. Wonshik pets him everywhere he can reach without messing the come on his face because he knows Hongbin likes it; touches his hair, his temple, the back of his ears, the top of his shoulders, fingers his bangs off his forehead gently.

Hongbin strokes him through the aftershocks, holds his gaze while licking some of the come on his upper lip and swallows loudly, even through the heaving of his own chest.

“Good?” he asks, cheeky, smirking but only a little so as to not _disturb_ the come on his face.

Wonshik’s panting. Fuck this. “Fuck you,” he exhales, still stroking Hongbin’s hair. “’course it was good. Get up here,” he mutters, and Hongbin drops one last kiss to the underside of Wonshik’s dick before letting go and getting to his feet. He’s aiming for a kiss—fuck the mess, really—but Hongbin steps back, tugging a little on Wonshik’s t-shirt so he follows along.

It’s kind of difficult, though, because Wonshik’s pants are still mid-thigh. “What,” he starts, trying to pull his pants up one-handed, while his other hand finds Hongbin’s bony wrist.

“I have an idea,” Hongbin says, biting at his lip. He’s walking backwards and Wonshik is stupidly following while his dick flops in the air because he’s uncoordinated as all fucks after he comes. He can tell Hongbin’s trying really hard not to laugh and honestly, so is he. “Well, it’s more like a mission. The mission is,” he smiles, uses his free hand to tug at his own t-shirt, “figure out how to take this shirt off me without wiping off the come.”

“You just want me to literally rip your clothes off,” Wonshik says, getting his dick under control, which means his pants are rightfully where they should be.

Hongbin shrugs, unbothered. “You’re hot when you’re all desperate.”

“Fine, then,” Wonshik huffs, tugging Hongbin toward his room by his shirt, “let’s get this shirt off you, you kinky asshole.”

“Bring it on, you limp noodle,” Hongbin huffs back, and if Wonshik weren’t so preoccupied with Hongbin’s goddamn t-shirt he’d throw the fucking pot at his head.

**Author's Note:**

> comments make me extra happy, leave some if you feel like it :> also pls talk rabin to me i beg ya


End file.
